


Stars

by cubedcoffeecake



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Character Study, Gen, Non-Linear Narrative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-06 11:20:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18850036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cubedcoffeecake/pseuds/cubedcoffeecake
Summary: After all, everyone knew how much he loved the stars.





	Stars

It wasn’t good, but it was necessary.

It wasn’t  _ nice _ , but it was  _ brilliant _ .

It had great consequences, but greater rewards.

The First Order was just that—order. Precision, technicality, and logic.

The galaxy was like a machine: every person and planet was a part. Working effectively and in sync, the galaxy could be great beyond understanding.

The First Order meant to be the mechanics who put the machine back together and kept it in working order. Who allowed the galaxy to fulfill its glorious potential.

Some people, some planets—they were beyond repair. Useless for causing anything but more discord. Most parts  _ were _ valuable, though. A slip of a child with no seeming worth could be immeasurably useful if utilized properly.

The destruction of worthwhile parts was a tragic sacrifice—but breaking a handful of parts to gain access to a thousand was entirely worth the loss.

It was the First Order’s mission (calling, task,  _ duty _ ) to restore the galaxy. The pieces couldn’t do it for themselves. People fought each other, planets starved, and most resisted giving their usefulness to a common goal. Selfish, short-sighted, and ultimately uninterested in fulfilling their purpose; they needed a firm hand.

_ Hux had known these truths since he was a boy. If he hadn’t, perhaps Starkiller would keep him up at night—but it didn’t. _

Stormtroopers were excellent pieces. Deck hands too, and mechanics, and the officers. Even Ren had his place and purpose. That was why they were all there, on board the Finalizer. That was why everyone in the First Order served the First Order.

They were all pieces in a grand machine that the First Order would run for millennia.

_ His mother warned him not to run outside tonight—the chill was more than enough to make him sick. Tidge had many strengths, but his physical constitution was not among them. Given that he’d spent much of his life sick, though, it wasn’t enough of a punishment to keep him in his bed right now. _

_ Arkanis’s thirteen moons hung in the sky for all but a week every year. That week was set in the dead of winter, so very cold and dark no one in this upright part of town ventured outside. It was, however, the only time one could see the stars. _

_ Panting and shivering, Tidge scurried out of the apartment and over to the rickety metal stairs that led to the complex’s roof. He had to step very, very slowly to keep his shoes from clanging. Eventually, though, he reached his goal and ran to the center of the flat area. He’d been studiously keeping his gaze down, but now he allowed himself a look upward. _

_ The sky was an endless void. Immeasurably black, and vast, and enrapturing—but Tidge loved the stars even more than this rare glimpse at space. The pricks of pure light were like nothing else he got to witness on this poor fueling planet. They were perfect: pure, precise, clean, constant, predictable. _

_ He could name them all, and their orbital paths, and even what systems they lay in. When he had nothing else stable in his life, Tidge could track where the invisible stars were across the horizon. Tonight, he got to see them; see that his calculations were right. Tonight, he could see the skies he controlled. _

_ Nothing would keep him from this. It was worth spending the rest of the year bedridden. _

Hux’s purpose was as simple as anyone else’s. He was just as replaceable. His own effort ensured it—he kept everything aboard his ship and his planet running perfectly according to protocol, so that protocol would be able to take over in his place when something inevitably happened to him.

It was satisfying. It was necessary. It was everything he had ever wished for.

_ Brendol Hux was his father, he said. Armitage’s mother was unfit to care for him, he said. All his efforts were useless, he said. _

_ Perhaps, a year or two earlier, Tidge would’ve questioned him. If those were the only facts Brendol told him, he certainly would’ve. _

_ Before that, though; Admiral Hux had talked about order as Tidge sat with him in the apartment. He told him stories of the chaos among the stars, and the people who fought to arrange it. _

_ “Like the stars?” _

_ His father hadn’t understood what Tidge meant until Hux stood over the Admiral many years later, watching the life fade from his eyes alongside the blood he’d let loose. An accompaniment of stormtroopers stood behind him, flawless white against the black of the night sky—and an army of stars hung over Hux’s head in just the same way. _

_ He understood then. _

Starkiller Base was scheduled to perform its first systems test in four days. There were dozens of missives requiring Hux’s attention every hour, as every step of the process had to be reviewed by the same set of eyes to ensure no mistake slipped by unnoticed. It was a perfect task for his meticulous nature.

He sat for an hour at his desk, dutifully responding to every message on his holopad with a proper response. At that point he stood. Hux went through the practiced motions of neck and back stretches before fetching a cup of water and returning to his desk. The next hour he went through the same stretches, and grabbed a rations bar. The third and fourth hours were water, and the fifth another ration bar before he powered off his devices and tidied his desk.

A brisk shower, a change of clothes, a run through his hygiene regimen, and Hux lay down to rest for seven cycles.

_ The academy was everything Tidge had dreamed of as a child. The stars were visible every night, and his skills with tracking them were admired. He got to learn about engines, and maths, and battle tactics. There were so many ways for him to apply himself, and they were all important, and he excelled at everything he tried. _

_ His teachers recommended him to the First Order. Armitage slipped the cadet rank entirely, and was promoted at an unprecedented rate. The Supreme Leader’s eye was drawn to his flawless record and lack of personal attachments, and Armitage was given a proposition he’d never dream of turning down. _

_ Taking a knife to his father’s neck was more than worth the command of a Resurgence class Star Destroyer. _

Kylo Ren loomed that morning. He’d returned from quashing a small planetary rebellion and Hux would have assumed him to be bored, but he seemed quite set on following Hux in particular.

He waited until past midday, when they were the last remaining after a debriefing about the kyber crystal status.

“The rebellion on Arkanis as settled,” he said. His vocoder removed any inflection that might have given Hux a hint as to his point. After a moment of silence, Ren plowed on.

“Much of the planet’s eastern commons was destroyed.” Hux raised an eyebrow, not deigning to ask for Ren’s point. His neutral response shouldn’t have been anything out of the ordinary—that aspect was unfortunate, as the rebels may consider destruction a sign of their success and rally again, but it wasn’t anything for Hux to concern himself with. It seemed to irritate Ren, though.

“Your mother lived there, according to your file. She was likely killed.”

“And what, Ren? Do you expect me to be perturbed?”

“I—she’s your mother!” Hux rolled his eyes. For all his admittedly admirable combat capabilities, Ren was an embarrassment to the Order.

Not wishing to come up with a response, Hux finished gathering his things and left the room. Ren watched him go, but didn’t follow.

_ There was only one Hux, now. _

_ Brendol had been a proud man—too proud. He lived for glorification and gratification. His contributions to the order of the galaxy did not content him, for he saw them as a stepping stone to personal greatness, rather than the goal in and of themselves. _

_ Hux was a better officer than his father could’ve dreamed of being. Knowing that his work contributed toward a noble, overarching purpose was all he needed to be content. _

Ren reminded him of his father, at times like this.

Hux watched him in annoyance as he cleaved an emergency door into several useless pieces.

They were both so prideful in the wrong ways. Once, he’d despised all pride—considered man to have nothing to be proud of when the galaxy was so much superior. He knew better now, as he couldn’t look at Starkiller Base without an overwhelming sense of pride.

This pride of Ren’s, though—it wasn’t of the accomplishments of the Order. It wasn’t even pride of what he personally brought to the Order. Ren was proud of his strength and might independent to, irregardless of, the Order. Hux hated it.

Mostly, Hux hated that he couldn’t be the bearer of the consequences of Ren’s pride. He had had the honor of laying his father low, but he knew better than to imagine he could humble Ren.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

 

 

 

The force tightened on his throat.

Plans for Starkiller Base flashed across his vision first. Then the blood staining his father’s coat as he lay still at his feet.

Reality came back for a moment—Ren’s anger taken out upon him, rather than a control console. The masked face giving nothing away, the gloved hand extended toward him, the horrified faces of Hux’s officers staring at him as his feet left the ground. Someone threw themselves at Ren, seeming to come to the same conclusion Hux had reached.

The fingers weren’t going to loosen.

It was Mitaka, if he wasn’t mistaken, but several others rushed to join him a moment later. There was nothing they could do to distract Ren when he was in this state, but Hux felt some dead, shriveled part of him warm at the realization that they cared enough to try.

The bridge faded from his vision once more and Tidge watched his mother chase himself and his brother around the market, their short legs taking them farther than she’d expected.

Tidge couldn’t tell when he’d closed his eyes, but he opened them now. The void of space was before him, and tens of millions of stars blinked into being inside it. Inside him.

He felt the cold of the deep winter seep into his bones as the stars began to fade. Tidge didn’t fight the urge to sleep, knowing Techie or Mum would come up soon and find him. After all, everyone knew how much he loved the stars.

**Author's Note:**

> This was the first fic I wrote for Star Wars. I honestly love it, but I think it’s kind of terrible? ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ Oh well. It’s sat in my drafts for far too long.
> 
> If you enjoyed this, feel free to check me out on  
> Tumblr (https://www.tumblr.com/blog/cubedcoffeecake ),  
> Twitter (www.twitter.com/cubedcoffeecake ),  
> or maybe consider dropping by my Ko-Fi ( https://ko-fi.com/S6S2L3VE ).
> 
> Thank you for reading! <3


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